


December 23rd: Ugly Christmas Sweater

by IneffableToreshi



Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [24]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: An Ineffable Holiday (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Ineffable Advent, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Ugly Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21917341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: This is Day 23 of my Good Omens Advent Calendar for 2019, in which Crowley invites Aziraphale to an ugly sweater party at the Ritz.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Advent Calendar 2019 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550176
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	December 23rd: Ugly Christmas Sweater

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you enjoy my Good Omens Advent Calendar! Consider it my Christmas gift to the fandom! And if you want to give me a gift in return, please leave me a comment (I live for them!) and if you're really awesome check out my other stuff by going to my blog over at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com! <3

Aziraphale was wrapping a final few presents (the human way, because he'd found it was quite fun) when Crowley rushed into the room with his mobile phone in his hand and a snakey grin on his face. 

"We _have_ to go to the Ritz tonight!" he exclaimed. 

Aziraphale carefully finished tying the bow he'd been working on. He stood up, dusted off his hands on his pants, and finally gave the demon his undivided attention. "Far be it for me to argue with an evening at the Ritz, darling," the angel said with a smile, "but is there any particular reason for this sudden outburst?"

Crowley looked like he was going to vibrate right out of his shoes. He waved his mobile through the air like it was the Golden Ticket to Willy Wonka's factory. "They're having an ugly Christmas sweater night!" he exclaimed. "Free appetizers to anyone who wears an ugly sweater, and angel…" The grin he gave Aziraphale was equal parts adoring and devilish. "I have _got_ to see you in an ugly Christmas sweater. It is officially my entire reason for existing."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, but he was also unable to stop the smile that crept across his face. "That's a bit dramatic, dear, isn't it?" 

If there was one thing Crowley could be, it was dramatic, and the best times to be dramatic - in Crowley's opinion - were times when it made his angel smile. So he dropped to his knees and crawled his way forward, an exaggerated gaze of desperation in his eyes. " _Plleeeeease,_ angel?" he begged, reaching up to tug on Aziraphale's shirt sleeves. 

The angel rolled his eyes, but the fondness on his face would have been clear to even the most bitter cynic. "Very well, you foolish serpent," he sighed, feigning at being put upon. "I'll see what I can rustle up to wear. Meet you there at seven?"

"Yesssss," Crowley hissed, all teeth. He leapt to his feet in a single fluid motion, captured Aziraphale in a quick kiss, and took off for the door. "Don't be late!" he called back, leaving the angel standing there, chuckling, pleased by how wonderfully childlike his demon had become.

\----

Crowley arrived at the Ritz early. He ordered a bottle of one of Aziraphale's favorite white wines and a double scotch for himself, and leaned back to observe the room. A rather lovely young woman in a sparkling red gown was tickling the ivories on the grand piano, plucking out some of the most beautiful Christmas music the demon had ever heard (not that he'd really paid much attention before this particular year). The restaurant was lavishly decorated in thick, vibrant garland, silky red bows, and a fabulous tree dressed in delicate white lights and rich gold and silver baubles. 

All of this was quite wonderful, to be sure, but what Crowley was really focused on was what the other patrons were wearing. There were a few spoiled sports who were dressed in their everyday finest, but there were also plenty of diners who had decided to take part in the ugly sweater party. One woman in the corner was wearing a thick, fuzzy green mess that was covered in red and gold tree decorations. A gentlemen one table over from Crowley was suited in a monstrosity patterned in interwoven sleighs, reindeer, stockings, and holly bundles. Crowley got a particularly good smirk out of a man near the bar who was wearing a shiny silver sweater covered in blond cherubs blowing trumpets while fluffy white wings flared out behind them. 

As amusing as it was checking out what all the celebrating humans had chosen to wear, Crowley personally thought that his sweater beat them all. It was black (of course), and as soft as his own wings. The neck was high and strung with a set of working, blinking tree lights in every color. The lights ran down both arms as well, making the demon a bright beacon in the dimly-light restaurant. And on the front of the sweater, as white as snow, was a single angel dressed in flowing robes. The angel had fluffy white hair and stood prim and proper, a golden halo hovering above his head. 

Crowley had designed it himself, specifically to make Aziraphale smile, and he couldn't wait for the angel to see it. He'd never admit it out loud to any other being, but the demon _lived_ to see his angel smile. He hadn't been exaggerating about that bit: it was his entire reason for existence. 

He was on his feet in a heartbeat, therefore, when he saw Aziraphale's white curls poking around the corner. He tucked one arm behind his back and held out the other to greet his angel and gesture him to the table, when he stopped dead and blinked stupidly, jaw dropping a little.

"Oh, Crowley dear," Aziraphale chuckled as he approached. His smile was as beatific as Crowley had hoped. "I really should have known that you'd do something like this," he added, waving a hand toward the demon's sweater. His laughter was like Christmas bells ringing. "Thank you for making it look like _me_ rather than any of those silly traditional angels."

Crowley heard it all, but he was thoroughly distracted by the sweater Aziraphale had chosen to wear. 

It was tartan (because of course it was) in Aziraphale's own personal pattern, but strung through with threads of actual tinsel. Green leaves and red holly berries strung around the neck and lower hem, and lengths of shiny red garland was twisted all the way down both arms. 

But what had caught Crowley's attention and held it in a vice grip was the image on the chest. 

It might have been mistaken for an angel...except that his robes and the glorious wings spread wide behind him were as black as night, and long, red curls fell down around his shoulders. 

"Is...is that me?" Crowley asked. It was a stupid question, he knew. Who else would it be? But he couldn't stop the question escaping him as he stared at the sweater in shock. 

Aziraphale's grin was wide and saturated in pure love. "Why of course it is, dearest! Who else would I deign to feature on my sweater but my favorite celestial being and the one person I want to spend the holidays with?"

Crowley stood as still as a statue for several long moments, staring from behind his dark glasses. If he sniffed a little and mentally bullied away the tear that was threatening to fall down his cheek, well...no one needed to know about that. 

After what seemed like a long time the demon coughed, cleared his throat, and rushed to pull out Aziraphale's chair. "It's...it's a great sweater…" he mumbled as the angel sat. 

"I thought you might like it, my love."

"You're too clever for my own good, angel."


End file.
